


One Direction Adopts Me

by mooglez



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mooglez/pseuds/mooglez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nameless OC - feel free to self-insert.<br/>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>It's really them. One Direction. My breath catches in my throat and my heart is beating so fast I can almost hear it. The ugly one smiles at me and I give a nervous grin in return.</p>
<p>“Hi,” he says softly. “My name is Louis, but you'll be calling me Daddy soon.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Direction Adopts Me

######  Hi guys. I've been writing this fanfic for almost a year now, so please tell me what you thought of it! I tried to make it as realistic as possible. <3 

It's pouring down with rain by the time I make it off the bus. School had dragged on more than usual today and I'm eager to get home to the warmth of my fireplace. Winter could be especially cold for those of us stuck in dreary London.

The wind picks up and I begin to run home when the chimney of my very small house comes into view. It's tiny and very old, but it's home.

“Hey guys, I'm back,” I call out to my parents when I enter. “Please tell me we're having something warm for dinner.”

I shrug my jacket off and head into the lounge room, ready to relax with a long Netflix session. The faint sound of crying, however, draws my attention away immediately. I whirl around and run back down the corridor, throwing the door of my parent's bedroom open.

My mum is kneeling in front of the bed, sobbing into my father's lap. They had both been let off from work nearly a month ago after the company they were employed with was shut down. While I know money is now tight, and we were scrapping at the bottom of our savings, I had selfishly been enjoying the extra time we had together because of it. We weren't about to starve – the small amount of money I made working on cam could at least pay for the rent.

“Mum,” I whisper, walking towards her slowly as though approaching a wounded animal. I've never seen her so distraught and my heart _ached_ at the sight of it. “Mum, what's wrong? What's happened?”

“Oh, my darling girl!” 

She stumbles up off her knees to embrace me in a tight hug. Her arms are suffocating. “I can't believe-- I just can't--”

“Dad?” I turn to my father, angling my neck around as far as I can to see him. His face is blotchy, and his eyes red, a sure sign he's been crying. Someone must've died. The ache in my heart intensifies until I can barely breathe – or maybe it's just my mother's strong arms.

Wrenching myself out of her grip I steady her by her shoulders. “Calm down, Mum. Who died? Was it Gran?” Grandma is almost 90 and had a failing heart. I love her so much but I've been readying myself for her death for months now.

My mum shakes her head and with hiccuping sobs she grabs a piece of paper off the bed that I hadn't noticed before. “N-no. It's this--”

I grab the paper out of her hand without thought, quickly skimming the contents of it. Then I skim it again, and finally read it very slowly, trying to comprehend the meaning of it. 

_'This can't be real,_ ' I think, my mouth slowly dropping open. This is insane.

“I don't understand,” I whisper, my eyes still locked on the paper. Adoption papers. “You're getting rid of me?”

“We don't want to!” Mum wails, trying to throw her arms around me again but I quickly jump back. “But we have no money, and the court says we have to!”

I rip the adoption notice up quickly, letting the shreds fall to the ground. This is completely insane.

“Okay, I don't know what you guys are on but you scared me half to death.”

My father shakes his head in disbelief. “It's true. I called our lawyer, he confirmed it.”

Our lawyer is a moron. I frown at my father, my eyes squinting in obvious disgust. How could these two people have survived until the age of 40 without accidentally killing themselves in stupidity?

“Sure, the good people of London thought it would be a better idea for me, a sixteen year old girl, to live with – and be adopted by – four men in their early twenties rather than her loving parents. We're not even that poor, Mum; our assets are at least--”

I'm interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. It's loud, clear ring echoes through the bedroom and my mum sprints past me, drying her tears on the sleeve of her shirt. 

“That will be them,” Dad says. He stands up slowly, his back cracking at the movement. I grab his elbow to steady him. “They said they'd be here to pick you up around now.”

“You're all insane,” I whisper to him, “I hope you know this.”

He makes his way to the front door and I follow behind closely. When we get closer I can hear five distinct voices arguing. 

“Well she's ours now!” one of them yells. I jog past my father and skid to a stop in front of the men. They're staring at me with as much surprise as I feel. 

It's really them. One Direction. My breath catches in my throat and my heart is beating so fast I can almost hear it. The ugly one smiles at me and I give a nervous grin in return.

“Hi,” he says softly, “My name is Louis, but you'll be calling me Daddy soon.”

Out of no where my gag reflex acts up and I begin dry heaving in my mouth. There's no way this could really be happening.

“Why are you here?” I ask, trying to calm my racing heart. “Is this some sort of sick prank?”

Louis faces my parents, anger blatantly visible on his face. “You were supposed to tell her. Did you not show her the adoption papers?”

“We showed her,” I hear my mum cry in a muffled voice. Louis quickly turns back to me. He grabs my face in his hands, staring into my eyes with concern in his.

“Oh, baby girl. Are you illiterate?”

“Ergh,” I push him away from me in disgust, “No, I mean, why me? How did this even happen?”

The boys glance at each other before facing me. From the corner of my eye I see my mum has burrowed herself into dad's chest, unable to witness the scene in front of her. I wish I could do the same. 

“We saw you, you know?” Liam, or whatever his name is, says with a laugh. “When you attended our London gig last year.”

I frown in confusion. “But I was, like, twenty thousand people from the front row.”

“And yet we saw you.”

I nod my head slowly, in the same manner I would when listening to a disabled child. “Right.”

They look at me with a puzzled frown, glancing back and forth between themselves as though trying to work out a complex problem, when Harry's eyes pop open. He's discovered something. 

“Oh,” he starts softly, “You didn't get our message to you.”

I shake my head. I'd never received anything from them, not even a reply to my e-mail I had sent after the concert that read, _'gud show lol'_. I had brushed off their rude lack of response as I figured they must get hundreds of fan written letters a year.

“We dedicated the rest of our songs to you, remember?” he continues while I look on in disbelief. Was it true? “We said, 'this one is for you girl!' and then pointed to you.”

I did remember them saying that – it drove every girl in the crowd wild. I didn't see them point to me because I was so far back they looked like ants, but it was possible their arm was stretched out in my direction. 

“You never came to see us afterwards though,” Niall says, his voice wavering with repressed tears. “We thought...”

He cuts himself off and throws himself into Louis' arms. I ignore the scene as best I can but the gross sobs from Niall is drawing my attention. 

“Don't look at me,” he sobs, his eyes forming wet patches onto Louis' shirt. “I'm so embarrassed.”

“...K.” I turn back to Harry, nodding my head in the direction of the crying man as if to say, 'get a load of this nerd'. When he doesn't respond I immediately drop my smile to get back to business. This is no time for fun and games.

“Has anyone even asked what I want?” I ask rhetorically, because no, they haven't. Harry gives me a crooked smile before taking off his shirt. His skinny, white chest comes into view and I avert my eyes. 

What is he _doing?_

“No,” he answers, opening his arms wide as if to invite me into them. “We didn't have to. We wanted you for ourselves too badly.”

I simply stare at him, his oddly shaped nipples distracting me almost enough to make me lose my train of thought. “Actually, you do. It's the law and if I don't want to be adopted, then I won't be. I'm not five months old. Open a book.”

“Actually, he's right, honey,” my dad interrupts. He's stroking my mum's hair with a soft caress. “They're rich enough to buy you. Our lawyer argued that we were too poor in comparison and that they could provide more materialistic things for you.”

My nose wrinkles in disgust. “Our lawyer argued against you? Why are you even paying him? And you can't buy me – slavery is illegal.”

While speaking to my father I fail to notice Harry sneak up behind me, wrapping his long, pale arms around my shivering form. He sniffs my hair. I shiver even harder from the act and try to distract myself by talking more.

“Lets say I believe you, and that I had to be adopted. At sixteen. By a group of boys. What would happen now?”

Harry's arms stiffen around me but he simply continues to nuzzle into my neck. “We'll take you home. You can start making music with us. Again. It'll be good. We'll be good.”

It's an odd thing to say, but I was raised to be polite as much as I could be. I decide the least I could do is give them my name formally. Introduce myself.

“Okay. Well, my name is--”

“No, babe,” he whispers into my hair. “Your name is Zayn now.”


End file.
